


crave those crazy soulmates

by larrytale



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cereal, Coincidences that probably wouldnt happen in real life, Grocery Store, Humor, Laundromats, Spiderman makes an appearance twice, Strangers to Lovers, Subways, they never exchange names not even once rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrytale/pseuds/larrytale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis just needed to do some errands. he didnt expect his day to turn into a whirlwind of boxers, bananas, and cereal that requires too much commitment</p><p>(heavily based off <a href="http://groovyhomo.tumblr.com/post/85488008702/au-where-louis-and-harry-meet-in-the-cereal-aisle">this</a> post)</p>
            </blockquote>





	crave those crazy soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> if you didnt know the title is from the cinnamon toast crunch slogan 
> 
> also, i would like to give a HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to [anna](http://lewistummyson.tumblr.com/) for helping me TONS and [karley](http://groovyhomo.tumblr.com/) for giving me the prompt in the first place thank u so much

Louis sighs heavily as he plops down at the marble breakfast bar, a notebook in front of him and a pen in his hand.

 _To Do List,_ it says at the top in big, bold letters. He had recently promised himself that he would get more organized, and he meant it, at the time, but it’s easy to mean things when you’re drunk and high off of the fact that he earned a raise, something that he won’t get again unless he _gets organized._

 _#1_ Louis writes evenly and determinedly, his handwriting neat albeit a bit bunched together.

Then he gets stuck.

“Number one,” He says out loud, picking up his head and looking around his flat. There’s laundry in the bathroom that he can see from where he’s sitting. He’s sure the toilets and sinks need to be scrubbed as well, but...

He looks back down at the paper.

_To Do List_

_#1. Make a to do list_

With a huff he shoves the pen and paper away from himself and stands up. He decides to save scrubbing his bathroom until he has company or something because honestly, it doesn’t bother him in the least and the last thing he wants to be doing on his days off work is getting on his hands and knees (cleaning, at least).

So with another huff of defeat and the reminder that _yes,_ Louis does indeed respect himself, and he _yes_ he really does need clean clothes to wear, he walks into his bathroom and bundles up all of his clothes into his arms.

The mass of fabric is so large that he can’t see over the top and he fucking _trips_ over a pair of his jeggings that are hanging down in front of his feet and he momentarily considers just burning his clothes and buying new ones.

But then as he walks up the three steps to his bedroom where his hamper is he reminds himself that he lives in a one bedroom, one bathroom flat in the middle of London because he’s broke and he has student loans to pay off and while he works at a very successful law firm he’s still at the bottom of the food chain.

So he grabs his quarters and whatever’s left of his dignity as he takes his hamper down the street and to the left and down _that_ street until he arrives at the Laundromat.

He opens the door with his hip because his hands are full and the bell chimes over his head, alerting everyone inside that there is yet another person who is living full and well without a washer and dryer taking up precious flat space.

“Louis!” The young man behind the counter shouts gleefully at his arrival. “Haven’t see you in a while mate!”

“That’s because I’m lazy as fuck,” Louis says as he approaches. “And I wait to do my laundry until my last pair of briefs start to feel like cardboard.”

Niall laughs. “Never would ‘a pegged you for a briefs, guy,” he shakes his head and gives Louis a onceover, “Commando, mostly.” He wiggles his eyebrows, “Much to my approval.”

Louis grins. _“If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy, come on baby let me kno-o-o-ow,”_ He sings quietly enough as to not draw any attention away from the other civilians who are simply trying to perform a necessary task, but apparently Niall didn’t have the same cautiousness to him.

His laugh is loud and he reaches of the counter and claps Louis’ shoulder which makes him shuffle a bit in surprise.

His cheeks turn red because he knows everyone’s eyes are on him now and he’s not used to that anymore, after having accidentally settled down during his second year of law school.

“Funny guy,” Niall chuckles. “Funny guy, you are.”

“You know, if you hadn’t just hinted at the fact that you want to sleep with me, I might just believe you.” Niall just laughs again and points vaguely at Louis’ own chest, so just Louis rolls his eyes with a friendly smile and turns around and faces the rows of washers in front of him.

People are evenly distributed about, and he notices with an inaudible groan that he’ll have to stand next to someone. Like when you’re in the men’s washroom and there are four urinals and a man on either end so you have to pick which one to stand next to.

His eyes fall on a young looking curly haired lad in the corner and he thinks that he’d much rather have this boys pee splashed on him than anyone else’s.

He readjusts the basket on his hip and walks over, opening the washing machine cover and begins throwing his clothes in when he notices that the boy next to him is taking his clothes out.

“Really? Bananas?” Louis says with a laugh, startling the boy beside him.

To Louis’ utter delight, as opposed to giving Louis a side glance and scurrying away, the boy picks up his banana boxers and looks at them quizzically, before turning to look at what Louis is doing.

“Well,” The boy says, raising his eyes to meet Louis’. “You have Spiderman on yours.”

Louis looks down at what he’s doing and notices that _yes,_ he is indeed holding his very favorite pair of Spiderman briefs.

Lowering his voice, Louis tips his head to the side. “Why of course,” he says, “they make my spidey senses tingle.”

The boy blushes before grinning. “And who’s to say that mine don’t peel my banana?”

Louis wrinkles his nose and looks down at his crotch. “Sounds kind of painful, don’t you think?” He asks.

The boy throws his head back in a laugh, his curls bouncing around before he leans forward and straightens them with his fingers. “It appears I’m not as witty as you,” He says sadly, bending over to grab his last article of soaking wet clothing out of the washer.

Louis sees that it’s a headscarf.

“But,” The boys says suddenly, leaning in and putting his hand in front of his mouth so he can whisper into Louis’ ear, “cute, witty boys make _my_ spidey senses tingle,”

And then he’s gone.

Well, not gone – across the room, rather, to the dryers. But he’s left Louis flushed and flustered, and that’s – its not _fair._

Louis accidentally sets his clothes through the gentle cycle because he’s too busy looking over at the boy to focus on what he’s doing. The boy’s got legs that go on for a _ges_ and _shit_ what even _is_ a gentle cycle? He hopes it means that his clothes are being taken good care of in there… just like he bets the banana boy would do for him… fucking – Louis bet’s the boy is ticklish during sex.

Very abruptly, Louis falls to the ground. Literally just falls to the ground because _fuck – what the fuck?_

His elbow slams the top of the washer on the way down and he hears Niall’s loud guffaw as he groans to himself. He cradles his elbow in his hand as he shuts his eyes tightly and thinks that maybe he should put _himself_ through the gentle cycle.

+

Clothes hangers suck, and putting away clothes _sucks,_ and life in general just _sucks._

Okay well, maybe it doesn’t, but it’s noon on a Saturday and Louis is hanging up clothes and while they’re both warm _and_ undeniably soft, he’s still grumpy.

He blames Banana Boxer Boy.

More specifically, he blames the fact that he’s dubbed him as _Banana Boxer Boy,_ because apparently talking about boxers with someone doesn’t mean that you necessarily have to trade names, although Louis very much wishes it did and – _where_ did all of these clothes hangers come from?

He tries to watch TV and he tries to organize his planner and he _tries_ to remember where he got so many white, identical clothes hangers but all he’s doing is moping around like a teenager and it’s honestly pathetic – almost as pathetic as the lack of good food in his fridge.

So after minimal debate, Louis throws on a beanie and heads out _once again,_ out into the real, adult world to do real, adult things because he is an adult. Really, he is.

Which is why he’s perfectly okay with taking the subway by himself. Perfectly okay, and – _jesus, is that a rat? A monkey with no ears? His great Aunt Susan after their family trip to Vegas a couple years ago? What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK?_

Louis puts one hand in his pocket and walks along the underground railroads, reading the maps and finding the one that will lead him to the shopping center.

He rocks nervously from the balls of his feet to his tip toes, from the balls of his feet to his tip toes, from the balls of the feet to his… wait a minute.

Through the small gathering of people waiting for the subway to arrive, Louis notices a person that’s tall enough to have his head stick above the crowd, if only just a little. But a little bit is enough for Louis to recognize that curly hair, and – and

_Banana Boxer Boy._

Louis’ shoulder gets bumped by someone trying to move by him and he stumbles forward a step, the sound of the train coming drowning out the embarrassing squeak that comes out of his mouth.

Louis tries to make it over to where Banana Boxer Boy is entering the same train as him but he’s trapped by the flow, forced to move into the train three doors down. Once in, however, Louis carefully walks over towards where Banana Boxer Boy has conveniently found a seat facing the door of the train, rather than the front or back.

Louis is close. He’s _this fucking close_ to sitting down next to Banana Boxer Boy and thinking of something witty and clever to say but then the train fucking _moves_ and Louis is thrown ridiculously off balance, his entire body lurching forward and he falls unceremoniously in the seat beside Banana Boxer Boy, his butt on the edge and his hand on the boys thigh.

Louis’ cheeks are bright pink when he meets bright green eyes. “Hi,” He says meekly.

“Uh,” The boy says, his eye flitting down to where Louis’ hand is still on his thigh. “Are you following me? And did you try to put a hat on, so I wouldn’t notice?” His voice is hoarse, but joking.

Louis sits up straight. Well, as straight as he can when his stomach and heart have switched places and he feels oddly light headed. “No, actually,” He says. “If I were following you, you wouldn’t know.”

“Assuring.” The boy confirms with a nod. “Very assuring, that.”

Louis is about to open his mouth to say something but the boy's phone beeps in his pocket and he leans back in his seat, shoving his hand into his pocket thus shoving down his pants a bit to reveal boxers that decidedly _aren’t_ banana themed.

“Oh?” Louis says out loud as the boy reads the text message he was just given. “No banana boxers? You only have one pair, it seems?”

The boy side eyes him with a smile. “And you have more than one pair of Spiderman boxers?”

With a smirk, Louis stretches back and shoves his pants down a little, showing off his dark blue briefs with Spiderman’s face on it. “Guilty,”

The boy throws back his head in a laugh, but even though Louis doesn’t want him to, he quiets once the train stops and people move about them. “I’m gonna be honest,” The boy says slowly to Louis as he tilts his head in Louis’ direction. “I’ve only ever showed my underwear to a stranger once. And it didn’t end very well,”

Louis grins at him. “Let’s hope this ends better then, yeah?” He says, and it’s _so_ perfect because the train slows and this is Louis’ stop, so he gets up with a wink and makes his way out of the subway. He grins to himself the entire way out of the underground because this day has been _such_ a fucking film he can’t even _believe it._

Where are his reality TV show offers?

+

The regret starts setting in about two hours later. Louis went clothes shopping and bought a nice Marvel sweater and changed into it immediately, feeling comfortable and cozy and happier than ever and he can’t believe how great this day turned out to be.

His decision to go grocery shopping was made easy by the fact that he’s really craving mashed potatoes (and the fact that his fridge is like an empty void of… not mash potatoes).

He’s strolling through the vegetable/fruit/whatever the fuck it’s called section when he sees bundles of bananas and nearly drops his basket because –

_Banana Boxer Boy._

Louis forgot to ask his name.

Now, there are numerous ways Louis could find out. Ways from tedious and laborious Facebook searches, to camping out in the Laundromat until the boy inevitably comes back to wash more clothes.

And while Louis is – in all honesty – completely ready and willing to do either of those things, he can’t help the feeling of ‘ _wow, I wish I did that’_ remorse.

He glumly puts back the mushrooms he had grabbed about a minute ago, and begrudgingly heads his way over to the cheaper isles.

Mashed potatoes with steak and sautéed mushrooms isn’t the right dinner for Louis, anyway.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch is, though, because Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a cereal fit for kings, and while Louis may not be a king he certainly is fit for royalty. Fit enough for sugary cereal, at least.

So he walks to the check out and drops his basket into the pile of other baskets because oh, who is he kidding? He’s not going to need it anyway. He’s got debts, remember? How could he forget?

He walks into the isle and stops dead in his tracks because _of fucking course_ he would be here.

A truly frightening single mother with 3 young children hanging about her pushes him forward, her frazzled state nearly matching Louis’ own. The _thud_ of his ripped sneakers on the linoleum floor and the crying of the youngest child in the cart seat is enough to bring attention to their general direction.

Even in the fluorescent lighting, Louis can see Banana Boxer Boy’s face light up with mischief before dimming down into confusion.

“You’ve changed again,” He states, obviously. “Are you sure you aren’t following me?”

Louis swallows and takes a step forward, standing next to the boy and overlooking the cereal boxes in front of him.

“I’m not,” He says. Then he backtracks. “At least, not intentionally.”

“Ah,” The boy says, as if this is something that happens all the time. “Gotta love coincidences, huh?” He smiles.

“I – I mean I guess,” _where the fuck is your game, Tomlinson?_

“Coincidence,” The boy drawls as he drags his finger over the covers of the cereal boxes in front of them. “Destiny,” He says, louder, pausing over a box of Froot Loops and grabbing it. “Fate.”

Louis turns his face when the boy looks at him, pretending as if he were studying the food items the whole time. “That’s a big word, that.” Louis hums, grabbing a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“You’re right. I take it back.” The boy says seriously, and Louis whizzes around to face him. “Out of all the _wonderful_ options in front of you, you pick _Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”_

Louis gapes at him. The moment is broken, but hey, another moment has just arrived. And this one, Louis is way more comfortable in.

“What do you mean, ‘ _out of all these options, I pick Cinnamon Toast Crunch’?_ Of _course_ I picked Cinnamon Toast Crunch! It’s the best choice!”

“Phhbbfffttttt,” The boy spits, “As if! It’s a commitment cereal, the worst kind!”

“What does that even _mean?”_ Louis huffs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “You don’t even make any sense.”

“What I _mean is-_ ” he begins, and they’re full on fighting, harsh breaths and jaws set but their eyes are soft and Louis feels light, he feels light and airy with Harry’s finger poked to his chest and it’s fucking _amazing._

He wishes he knew his name.

“-It gets soggy way too fast, and it’s no good when it’s soggy. If you’re going to eat it, you have to stay focused on it. You have to be ready to chow it down. And that’s no way to eat cereal. All stressed out and shit!”

Louis shakes his head. “No, no, no,” He chants. “First off, that’s not even true! Cinnamon Toast Crunch tastes amazing all the way to the last square, and just because you think you’re better than us, average, run of the mill soggy cereal eaters, is insane! And secondly, if you want to talk shit about soggy cereal, you better put that box back, buddy, because guess what Froot Loops taste like when they get soggy? Cardboard and Red. Dye. Number. _Seven_.”

The boy gasps, offended. “How very _dare_ you! You come into _my_ cereal aisle and call _my_ favorite cereal a mess of cardboard and artificial flavoring?”

“You started it!” Louis reminds him with a hand in the air. “Crying about my ‘ _commitment cereal’,”_ He does over exaggerated finger quotations, ignoring the way the boys face has softened into a smile. “You see what I’m doing with my hands here, Banana Boxer Boy?” And again. “It means _bullshit-”_

“Please go on a date with me.” The boys says suddenly, and Louis freezes, his accusatory finger going limp.

“I’m sorry, what?” He barely manages to squeak, his cheeks going pink.

“I want to go on a date with you. So bad.”

“Are you serious?” Louis asks, slightly frustrated, slightly enamored, and slightly… confused.

The boy gives him a goofy grin and looks around at the setting their in.

“I’m cereal.” He whispers, and _god,_ Louis wishes he knew his name.

 

**Author's Note:**

> whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? another cheesy ending??? who would have guessed
> 
> my tumblr is [here](http://dimpledlouis.tumblr.com/) thank u all for reading


End file.
